


Maintaining Standards

by nonnymouse



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, Public Humiliation, Public Sex, Sexual Slavery, Spanking, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 09:21:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7429133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonnymouse/pseuds/nonnymouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: any fandom, any slash, this buyer likes to see the merchandise be thoroughly and publicly tested before he makes a purchase.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maintaining Standards

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt and fill [here](http://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/89727.html?thread=1099316863#cmt1099316863).

Everard browsed idly through the dealer's current stock of redheads; a rather prosaic lot, all told. A few had promise - an older woman who still had fine, firm tits and a boy with a ripe ass meant for flogging - but he liked for his slaves to stand out. It's why he went for redheads in the first place.  
  
Then, he caught a glimpse of a young slave, maybe nineteen or twenty, standing nervously at the edge of the herd. Those slumped shoulders would have to be trained out of him; bad posture ruined the aesthetics. His hair was a pale strawberry red, his skin likewise pale and ruddy. He had dark eyes with heavy lids, giving him a unique look.  
  
With a deceptively casual stride, Everard sauntered over to that end of the pen. He casually gestured for the boy to twirl. Not bad. Scrawny, like the rest of the unclaimed merchandise, but with a plump ass that was quite nice even if it didn't rival the other slave's. Everard imagined making that ass glow as red as the slave's other cheeks, and barely stilled his mouth from curving up with pleasure. It wasn't good to let the dealer see that you were already sold. Especially since he didn't know if the boy was worth it yet.  
  
"Ah, I see you like number twenty-seven!" the dealer said. "His father was a steppe barbarian, and his mother sold him as soon as he was old enough to fetch a decent price. Not much training yet, but a willing lad."  
  
"Is he trained sexually?"  
  
"He can suck a cock, and it doesn't take much training to get plowed, does it? Nothing fancy though." The dealer paused, an unctuous smile spreading across his face. "'Course, that just means you can train him how you like."  
  
Everard frowned, although inside he agreed with the dealer. Half the fun was training the slave to associate the lash with pleasure, to anticipate instead of dread idle pinches and slaps and blows throughout the day. He loved how they flinched the first time his hot piss soaked their skin, then grew to sink to their knees and open their mouths unasked.  
  
Watching something develop from nothing was a delight in itself. Of course, you had to determine where nothing was first.  
  
"I'll need see a demonstration of his skills, then," Everard said. "I'm looking for a slave, not a project."  
  
The dealer nodded. "Oh, of course, of course. Any requests?"  
  
"A punishment paddling, followed by two men sharing his mouth and ass."  
  
The dealer gestured to a guard. "Paddle him," he ordered. "Twenty blows."  
  
The chosen guard led the slave to the edge of the pen, undoing his belt as he went. He bent the slave over, then used the belt to tie the slave's wrists to the fence to help him hold position.  
  
The boy trembled, but hadn't made a fuss. That was a point in his favor.  
  
The guard proved to be skilled himself, varying where each crisp, solid hit landed. He warmed the slave's ass rather nicely indeed, and Everard suspected there might be some lovely bruising the next day. A deep, purple bruise would suit the boy's coloring well, but even a green-toned bruise might be flattering, bringing out the yellow undertones in his skin. Everard looked forward to determining what bruises suited the boy's skin best. It would be the rare day he wasn't bruised, after all.   
  
To Everard's delight, the punishment had drawn a crowd. Dozens of buyers now milled around to see what the excitement was. A few drifted away when they realized it was only an examination, but most stayed to watch as two muscular slaves stepped forward to use the boy.  
  
The first, larger one untied the boy's wrists from the fence, but left them bound together and used the end of the belt to lead the boy to a stool to lean against. He struggled to balance without the use of his hands most amusingly, and both slaves waited for him to gain an equilibrium before starting the ravishment.  
  
The second slave slicked the boy's asshole roughly as the boy began licking the first slave's fat cock. He mouthed the head, and a nearby woman commanded him to stop pussyfooting around and get that cock down his throat already. The boy attempted to comply, but halfway down he gagged and pulled away for air. The woman sniffed loudly, and Everard smirked at the look of shame that crossed the boy's face. He looked miserable, saliva running down his chin, and the second slave hadn't even got his cock in yet.  
  
But soon enough he was taking it from both ends, body rocking violently between the two eager slaves as they pounded him. The stool looked liable to tip over, and the edge must certainly be cutting into the boy's bony hips. Everard didn't begrudge the slaves the rough handling. Unclaimed merchandise rarely got to orgasm, after all, so this was a prized opportunity. It was how Everard  wanted to see the boy used, anyway. The audience, too. The onlookers gave a variety of commands - pull his hair, slap his ass - and all three slaves complied with great aplomb. That is, the boy didn't fight as the other two used him ruthlessly.  
  
"Come on him!" a rather excited onlooker yelled, and both slaves pulled out to spill their seed. The boy managed to close his eyes, but it dripped down his nose and across his cheek, in addition to pooling in the small of his back.  
  
He didn't have the leverage to stand without his hands, so he was left leaning against the stool as the other two slaves faded back into the herd. He kept his gaze firmly on the ground, those naturally pink cheeks burning bright beneath the stripes of come and those shoulders still slumped. He was clearly aware of the gaze of the crowd on his used body.  
  
Everard approached him and pressed a hand against his shoulder firmly until he stood straight. "Acceptable," he said, after a long perusal of the way sweat dripped down the boy's lean body. He avoided looking at the boy's face, lest the dealer notice how delicious Everard found him with his eyes wide and dazed and his mouth as red as his cheeks due to the rough fucking it had received.  
  
He turned to the dealer. "Seventy-five silvers," he said. He started low, naturally, but fair. The dealer was lucky someone like Everard passed through. He probably sold most of his slaves in bulk to the local whoremongers. They always needed new flesh, trained or not, pretty or not. A waste of the few gems that crossed a backwater dealer's path.  
  
The dealer scowled at him. "One hundred twenty gold," he said. "He's nineteen and in good health."  
  
"He's got terrible posture and that skin clashes with that hair," Everard countered. "He's so untrained he can't even take a cock fully down his throat. You can't expect me to pay full price for such merchandise."  
  
"One hundred gold," the dealer said, conceding Everard's point.  
  
Everard snorted. "You must think me a fool. One hundred silver. It's more than a brothel will give you for him, which is already more than he's worth. He's a skinny little dock whore."  
  
The dealer hesitated. The boy was already too old for most private owners who liked untrained slaves, and both of them knew it. "Fine, one hundred silvers," the dealer said.  
  
Everard signaled for his own guard to take the boy to his carriage. "You can use him yourself before you lock him up," he said, ever the generous master. "If he doesn't put on a good show, give him five hits with the driver's riding crop."  
  
The guard nodded and hustled the boy away.  
  
Everard turned back to the remaining redheads. The examination had left him more excited than he liked to admit. He nodded at the slave with the ass. He could use a new pain toy, too. "I'll give you a hundred more if you throw in that one."  
  
The dealer shrugged. As Everard suspected, it was more than he'd get for the slaves otherwise. "Deal." The two men shook on it.

"Come along," Everard told the slave after he paid. It was time to go home and play with his new toys.


End file.
